The Millennium Mask
by Bobbitt The Hobbit
Summary: One-shot. The tale of how the Millennium Earl came to be. AU-esque.


**One-shot!**

**I'm surprised at the tone of this story. It's quite a dramatic change from "The Legend of Ashley." I'm also surprised that the plot is actually pretty good (in my opinion). This was written for an art project (yeah), I put the cover on DeviantArt. I'll probably post a picture of the mask too. It's one of the few clay art projects that actually turned out. I was so proud of myself! I got 100% on it! Anyway (you don't care)….this is a prelude to the D. Gray-man series. This was written before I really knew ANYTHING about D. Gray-man and the "early Earth" isn't realistic, but hey, it's fiction. I tweaked the plot a bit and did some major rewriting.**

**Thanks to Hina-Kita, LionRoaR, and Blue Moon Angel for editing! Danke for getting it back A.S.A.P. and for spending the time on it!**

**The Millennium Mask**

Long ago, the world was a fair place and housed tranquil people and creatures. One man stood out above them all; he was nicknamed "The Earl." He was very handsome, had a smooth, pleasing voice, always wore a smile, and, unusually, ruled over his small portion of land with love. Everyone heard about this grinning Earl that reigned with passion. Everyone wanted to be guided by more than just fairness, and eventually, he advanced to controlling most of the world.

The people of Earth managed to overlook one major flaw with the Earl; he brought back the dead. His trusted advisers were all those that he had resurrected. Peculiarly, the average number of deaths in a freshly claimed territory increased, but no one suspected that the gentle, kind, toothy grin bearing Earl was behind it. In fact, the people saw it as an opportunity to witness his splendid gift; all were fooled. His true motive was to annihilate the Earth. He continued his charade, but a few people managed to sense the truth and rebelled against him; they tried to make the others see the reality. The Earl laughed at their feeble attempts and continued on. But a few heard and saw the real Earl. They told their friends, who told their friends, and so on. The Earl ignored this, caught up in his self-proclaimed quest. And when the world was just within his grasp, Earth's creatures banded together and overthrew him.

The united beings burned his body and sealed his dark spirit inside a mask with a befitting, ugly appearance. Unfortunately, the Mask could not suppress his dark will; whenever an individual would wear the Mask, he or she would succumb to his sealed power and ultimately die. The other creatures would be forced to kill the one wearing the Mask because it ran the risk of releasing the evil within.

Many tried to destroy it, and all failed. Burning, breaking, and even throwing it into the ocean all ended the same; an innocent, naïve individual would discover and try on the Mask, and blood was shed. Luckily, the Earl never managed to escape his prison.

The humans finally decided to have "Keepers" of the Mask to protect the world from this wickedness; Earth's creatures agreed and trusted the humans with the task of guarding the Mask. It was passed down for generations until it was ultimately lost in time.

Thousands of years in the future, the story of the Earl has come to only be known as a legend and fiction. The Mask has also attained a new name throughout those years: The Millennium Mask.

It is now the late 18th century, and our story focuses on a boy named Glenn. When he was just reaching the age of six, Glenn's parents were apparently killed in an accident. He was not permitted to see their bodies. Glenn was passed around for a year until he was ultimately pushed upon his grandparents. They accepted him gladly. Glenn created an unnaturally strong bond with his grandparents; they accepted him when others had not. His childhood was spoiled, and a stained childhood created instability within him.

Around the age of seventeen, Glenn moved away, at his grandparents' suggestion, to start his own life, and to remove a burden from them. He kept in contact with them, for he could not bear a separate life if he did not, and mailed a letter at least once a week. He wrote about how he had met a girl, and about how much he missed them. Glenn's grandparents always replied promptly. This continued for a few years until in time, Glenn's grandparents died of natural causes, or so everyone thought; no one considered taking a closer look. Regardless, they were dead, and Glenn was devastated beyond belief. A funeral was established immediately by Glenn's wife-to-be; very few came to the funeral because hardly anyone knew the broken family.

After the funeral service was finished, a very brittle, old man approached Glenn and his fiancée, telling him that he read and addressed Wills. He had Glenn's grandparents' Will, and, apparently, they had left everything they owned to Glenn, including their lovely house.

Glenn dreaded the idea of going back to the house; it would bring back to many unwanted, painful memories, and their deaths were too fresh to risk a visit without acquiring a few mental problems.

Glenn returned home a few hours later. His fiancée tried to comfort him, but her efforts were in vain; his mood was permanently set to mope and grieve. A day or two later, Glenn decided to visit the house next week, when the shock had subsided a small bit.

Seven nights came and slipped away, and, after much debating, Glenn decided he would move to his old home, quitting his current job and life. He ended his relationship with the girl he had told his grandparents about and crushed her heart. Glenn did not love her anyway. He did not need a job anymore since his grandparents left him all their money, which turned out to be a great deal.

Glenn arrived at his new home on the eighth morning; no moving carriage was needed since he had all the possessions he would ever need were already in the house. Glenn sold all his other belongings the previous week. He walked into his new, yet old home. The atmosphere was out of the ordinary devoid of his grandparents. The house seemed to have lost its life and glow, but that did not bother Glenn because for all he was concerned, the house fit him perfectly. He settled in quickly. At the beginning of his permanent stay at the house, the neighbors visited him, gave him homemade goodies, and spoke their condolences about his grandparents. He gave off a cold demeanor, and the neighbors stopped visiting. Glenn started a life of solitude and an almost constant state of intoxication. He never disturbed anything that could be helped, and slept on the couch often. He never did anything besides mourn. He would run to the market to get the necessities like food, but mostly to buy more alcohol. Even then, no one paid Glenn any attention; it was as if he had become nonexistent to the world.

Several weeks on a dark Friday night after he stopped social contact, Glenn was sitting in the living room, a few drinks away from an emotionless and thoughtless trance when he heard what sounded like someone calling from upstairs. More interested than scared, Glenn stumbled up the stairs, paused, and listened.

"Glenn…" Someone was calling him; the hairs on his neck stood on their ends; something about the voice sent shivers down his spine. Paranoia crept throughout his body as he waited to confirm what he thought he had just heard. He hoped it was just the effects of having to much alcohol.

"Glenn…"

_Damn_, Glenn had heard right. Despite his trembling, Glenn progressed forward slowly. His instinct to run away and common sense was suppressed by his almost intoxicated state and curiosity. He meandered down a hall and paused before his grandparents' old bedroom; a stab of pain hit Glenn's heart as he gazed upon the door. He had not been in there since his grandparents died.

"Glenn…!" Someone was calling from inside. He hesitated, but opened the door, preparing himself for whatever lied beyond it. To Glenn's surprise and relief, no one or anything out of the ordinary was in the room, but he had been so _sure_ someone or something had been calling him into this space. Glenn glanced around the area again, and felt his heart start to break. He needed more alcohol to counter this feeling. Eager to leave, Glenn shut the door, and turned to proceed downstairs.

"Glenn…!" He froze, gradually turned around, and walked back the bedroom. This time Glenn was going to go in and examine the room. He told himself not see the possessions in the room, but to see if anything was out of place. He slowly prowled the room, looking in each nook and cranny carefully. About halfway through Glenn's sweep of the room the voice called out again; the sound came from inside the closet. Glenn braced himself and opened the door. Nothing.

He was closing it when something caught his eye; a small door was hidden on the right side of the closet. Glenn crouched down and opened the door; a cozy room was behind it. He crawled through and stood up. Quickly taking in his surroundings, Glenn found that the secret room was the size of a small walk-in closet; the walls were concrete and the floor was covered by a throw rug. The only light in the space was that emitting from an old, melted candle on a table in front of him. The only other item in the room was a mask sitting on the table to the left of the candle. The mask was grotesque starting with its long gnarled ears to the sinister toothy grin that spread across the surface. It was sickly, sallow yellow, and a top hat stretch tall on the top of the head. Dark glasses were pasted to the front. Even under the circumstances, the mask still intrigued Glenn, so he took it.

Downstairs he inspected the mask closer; it looked extremely old, like something an antique shop would pay a small fortune for. Suddenly, Glenn had this urge to try on the mask; slowly, not able to resist the urge, he put on the mask. Almost instantaneously he felt another presence within him.

"Hello Glenn," a polite voice said. Glenn's eyes widened and he looked around the room for the source of the sound. "I'm not outside your body, I'm in your mind." Fear poisoned him as his mouth fell open. "Oh don't be scared, I'm not going to hurt you because, after all, I'm just a voice," it caressed. He still did not relax and the voice sighed. He tore the mask off of his face and tossed it away in attempt to put his anxiety at bay. As the minutes passed by, the voice did not speak again, and so Glenn relaxed. He quickly drowned thoughts of the voice, the mask, and his situation in his drink.

A few days later, Glenn was out of alcohol, and his depression was becoming almost unbearable when the voice spoke, "What would you do if I said that I could bring back your grandparents from the dead?" This surprised him but Glenn was interested in what the voice had to say. He ignored the tale about bringing back the dead. His grandparents had told him many times that resurrecting anything was evil's doing. But had they experienced the pain he was going through now? The excruciating loss of the only people they loved? Glenn realized his life was quietly being torn to pieces under his nose; he could not continue living without his grandparents. This voice promised him the hope of living instead of existing. Glenn needed his grandparents; he wanted to know how to get them back.

"All you need to do is put the mask back on and wish for them." Glenn hesitated but obeyed anyway. He wished with all his heart that his grandparents were alive again. He did not sense the gradual loss of control over his body.

Two figures appeared before Glenn and he grinned. He felt happiness, an emotion he thought would never return. Glenn walked toward them, arms open, but one barked at him, "WHAT? GLENN, HOW COULD YOU? " Glenn was taken aback by his grandpa's hostility; Glenn thought he would be happy to see him. "I THOUGHT YOU WOULD BE STRONG ENOUGH TO MOVE ON!" That hurt Glenn, and he was starting to get ticked off; he had only done what he had with their best intentions in mind. Why couldn't they see that?

He walked forward again, but stopped short when he saw what his grandparents were: skeletons, shiny, metal skeletons with Glenn's grandparents' names tattooed across their foreheads. These were not his foster parents; these were cruel, evil imposters. Shocked, Glenn retreated a few steps.

"Glenn," His grandmother's voice whispered, "how could you? How could you side with the Earl?"

_The Earl?_

Evil laughter filled Glenn's head, and the voice cackled, "Foolish boy, don't you know any better? The dead are not to be tampered with!" It laughed more. "But of course, I must thank you because it you had not been so paranoid and dependent, I would not be here. So, I give you my thanks," the voice said in a well mannered fashion.

Glenn was confused; what was going on? Abruptly, he felt paralysis take over his body and soul. He did have control over his body. His conscious was losing its place in his head.

"Know this," the voice whispered. "Your death is not in vain." And just before Glenn could grasp what was happening, a final shove from the Earl turned Glenn's soul into a mere memory.

The Earl escaped his prison, and acquired many new allies. He continued his righteous quest, and decided to tweak his title; he liked the sound of his previous name. He was forever known as the Millennium Earl.

**Why is his name "Glenn?" Well. My friend and I drew a picture of the Millennium Earl on a whiteboard at school before I wrote this, and, kids being kids, decided to mess with it. They named him Glenn.**

**I read something on the Internet that said where the inspiration for the Millennium Earl came from; there were a few answers, but the one that makes the **_**most**_** sense is that the inspiration was Dorian Gray (hence the title). I'm not sure if you already **_**knew**_** this (I didn't obviously), but I thought it was interesting. The book **_**The Portrait of Dorian Gray**_** seemed pretty fascinating.**

**Please review! I'd love it. **


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